Who Are They? (wrong Answers Only)

nah, man, that's ninjutsu. necrophillia is the frozen dessert with vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry as it's three flavors

ONE OF MY FAVORITE VIDEOS EVER

...how the fuck did i end up here-

we'll meet again

summary:

based on an amazing comic by @hg-aneh!!!

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wordcount: 642

fandom(s): good omens - terry pratchett

ship(s): aziraphale/crowley

oneshot

summary:

“WHY ARE YOU HERE, AZIRAPHALE?!”

A pair of pitch black wings shot out from behind the former angel.

And Crowley shattered.

Crowley's eyes shot open as soon as he heard the telltale ding! of the bell, signaling someone had entered the bookshop.

He never had customers, the door always remaining locked with the sign flipped to ‘Very Closed’. Muriel had long since left to attend some “heavenly duties”, and the only people who ever checked up on him were Nina and Maggie, though he hardly ever talked when they made their occasional visits. Crowley had been laying his head on his an- Aziraphales desk for who knows how long. Maybe weeks, maybe months. He’d lost count of the days after Nina's last visit, sometime in the early spring. A look outside would reveal that the tree's leaves had begun turning brown and falling.

He looked up, a quiet “oh” leaving his mouth as he realized who was standing before him.

Aziraphale had looked worse than ever. His once pure white outfit issued by Heaven now had been stained with black sulfur, turning into a light gray. The cream colored bowtie he'd been made to wear was loosely hanging around his neck, just barely hanging on. His light tan trousers had turned into a dark brown, the fabric frayed at the edges. It looked like he’d gone through hell and back.

“Oh!” A spark of anger went through the demon, lighting a fire that had long since gone dark, a few weeks after Aziraphale had left. “Well, look who bothered to show up!” Crowley stood, gesturing around with his hands. “The supreme ASSHAT of Heaven!” Crowley moved closer to Aziraphale. “Dirtying his clean little shoes to come and laugh at the pitiful sad demon!” Crowley jerked a thumb at himself, before turning around.

“Oh, poor Crowley! He must be feeling so pathetic all alone!” He used a mocking tone, and turned back around to face Aziraphale, not having taken notice that the angel's eyes were dark and empty. Aziraphale had shown no emotion at all throughout this entire encounter. “Well, the jokes on you.” He stared down at Aziraphale, who merely looked up at him emptily. “I’m better than ever on my own. Just me. A team of myself.” Tears had begun to sting at the corners of Crowley's eyes. He could feel every part of his fragile and bitter heart breaking.

“I DON’T NEED YOU!” He shouted, a scowl replacing his once smug features.

“So, tell me angel.” Tears had begun falling down his cheeks, but Crowley didn’t care. “Why did you come back?!” He raised his voice.

“WHY ARE YOU HERE, AZIRAPHALE?!”

Then a pair of pitch black wings shot out from behind Aziraphale.

And Crowley shattered.

“You-” He breathed, a sense of dread overtaking him. He took a step closer to Aziraphale, and then another one, his rage forgotten. It was then that he noticed that Aziraphale had a blank expression on his face, like he was simply looking through Crowley.

“You…you IDIOT!” Crowley grabbed Aziraphale by his dirty, sooty lapels. “Why, angel? Why did you go back?! Why did you leave?!” Crowley slowly sank down to the ground, the dam breaking, tears falling down his cheeks as a thousand questions of why remained on his tongue, though he knew none of them would be answered. At least, not while his angel was in this state. He just clutched onto his angel, repeating why over and over again.

Crowley didn’t know how long he’d remained like that, but eventually his angel ended up on the floor in front of him. His cries had long since faded into ragged breaths and sniffles. Aziraphale made no move to reach out, to touch Crowley, to hold him, in any way. He simply just sat there on his knees. Then he reached out a hand, cupping Crowley's cheek. And despite himself, Crowley leaned into the touch, as Aziraphale muttered two simple words.

“I’m sorry.”

i hope that one day i will finally be ok….i’ll make a cherry pie when it is all over

the

what.

I hope this email finds you well and in good health on the first train to Vancouver you can get on, you won't want to stay in Seattle with the way negotiations with the sky orb are going

after 2-3 months and a lot of procrastination, it's finally done! what you will see below is the profile picture for a little project ive been working on for a sideblog me and @littleguypumpkinsheep have collaborated on called cowboy-certification! first (and most proud of) artpiece of 2025!

(also, this was my first time really digitally coloring and shading any art piece ever! super proud of this =])

// For those who have been going through the entirety of my art on this blog and mass-liking it— I appreciate it, I do!

But with tumblr, likes act as a bookmark. Nobody else sees them. They don’t boost a post. They don’t help the original poster. Unlike in instagram where likes actually push ‘content’ forward, likes on tumblr don’t push exposure. They sit in your likes box.

The recent reblog-likes ratios have been staggering and massively disheartening for artists (which is largely why I moved my art to instagram in the first place— a like is the most minimal amount of engagement but at least likes do something there).

If you really wanna help artists (especially growing artists) out, please opt to reblog instead of like. If you don’t wanna post all at once, throw it in the queue.

The artists of tumblr will appreciate you greatly.

- Margo

but i stay silly! *←said in the most world-weary voice you ever did hear*

👍🙏✨🔥🗣️

....que???

💯🙏💛🟨👍

big things are coming